


Choosing sides

by bluebells



Series: Ceasefire [8]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Lucio and Akande really need to develop some kind of code, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: A telephone call, an awkward conversation, and an unforgiving audience.





	Choosing sides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverwingprime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverwingprime/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: "But I only just got home." Set directly after the events of [_Blink first_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13310241).

"Twice in one week," the smile in Akande's voice is quiet and amused when he answers Lúcio's call, and Lúcio's throat tightens at its softness. "Have I left you wanting?"

And just like that, Akande damns them both.

Lúcio swallows hard and raises his eyes to the leaders of Overwatch looming across the steel table.

Fareeha's glower is intense, arms crossed in terse expectation that she will brook no dissent. At her side, her mother is a more mysterious quantity: Ana Amari's quiet presence fills the room, lips pursed in a thoughtful line as her piercing eye carefully roves Lúcio's face for clues. Lúcio avoids her gaze as though he can avoid her scrutiny, even though Ana was the one who brought him tea.

It steams on its saucer untouched by the phone: a disarming scent of mint and a darker leaf he doesn't recognize. It calms him; that must have been Ana's intent. It is a kind gesture, but he doesn't trust to drink it yet. He needs to be on his guard.

The presence of Soldier 76 cements his instinct to stay vigilant. He is the one Lúcio keeps glancing to, wary, but 76 betrays nothing behind his visor, arms crossed in silent judgment.

Lúcio knows that Winston and Hana watch from behind the glass.

There's nothing he can do about any of that now. Instead, he focuses on the blinking green light of the phone signalling the call in session. He imagines Akande's smile. For the first time, guilt follows the flutter in his stomach. Leaning towards the phone, he braces forearms on the table's edge and carefully avoids eyelines.

"I missed you," he says; not even a lie.

Akande chuckles, a smooth, deep sound that rolls over him in comfortable familiarity. And why wouldn't Akande be smug? It took him three months to convince Lúcio to share his personal contact number, and barely a day later Lúcio is the one who calls him first.

Background noise of chatter and machinery fall away and suddenly Akande's voice is clearer, Lúcio imagines he stepped into one of the many side rooms on that base of theirs.

"I want to see you," Akande says.

Under different circumstances Lúcio might have laughed, even teased him ( _careful, you could give a guy ideas_ ). But that secret is out.

He winces under the heavy gaze of his three judges, biting down on the abrupt clench in his chest. He hunches in the steel chair that has grown only more uncomfortable with the long drag of hours, shielding himself from the scrutiny of his audience with a hand over his eyes.

"So soon? But I only just got home." His smile falters and he just hopes Akande can't hear the tremor he feels in his throat. It's meant to be a joke, a gentle nudge, but in his own ears, he sounds hoarse and tired.

What was he thinking -- that he'd fight for this. To what end?

"Can you come to Illios?"

Lúcio rubs his hand over his eyes. "Illios?" What was his team doing in Illios?

Akande must interpret that as a negative, switching tactics. "Do you need time to get away?"

"No. It -- it's not... timing."

"Give me half an hour, I'll find another city."

Lúcio shakes his head, pressing his hand hard over his eyes. Akande just isn't getting it. Lúcio shuts his eyes tight for a moment, and then throws his hand down to glare at the phone. "That's not the problem."

Akande does not sound bothered by Lúcio's frustration. "Then I will come to you."

"No," Lúcio grits out, exhaustion slumping his shoulders. "That's not --"

Fareeha moves forward in his periphery. She frowns, shaking her head. A warning.

He thinks of Akande nuzzling him with kisses on a marble counter top, cooking him breakfast in the cool hours before dawn. Sparring, joking, and taunting with him. Large hands against his thighs, drawing him back against a solid frame, lulling him to sleep on a shared bed with the precious gift of warmth, and the promise of security. That he would be safe. That he was being watched over.

Why couldn't Lúcio have found that with anyone else but this man?

He takes too long to elaborate.

"I'll come to you," Akande decides.

"No! No, I'll --" regret this, almost definitely, but of everything else this organization knows about him, they _cannot_ learn that Lúcio smuggled one of their worst adversaries onto their base when this all started -- when Lúcio had more nonchalance than sense.

What a difference three months can make.

Fareeha is murmuring with 76 and her mother, and then turns back to Lúcio with a stern nod, pointing at the phone. She raises her hand, all fingers splayed, mouthing silently.

Lúcio nods in understanding.

"Illios," he says. "Okay. Five hours. You know where."

"Be safe."

He ends the call with a sick feeling of anticipation at his reception. He is almost wary to look at his allies again - is that even the correct term for them after this?

"Good. We'll find you a discreet transport." Fareeha's voice is crisp and her eyes hard as she scans the length of him slumped in his chair. "I will accompany you."

Lúcio looks to her mother and sighs, finding nothing but the same indecipherable expression examining him. What exactly is Ana searching for in his face? Lúcio's gaze drops to his hands clenched in his lap, unable to hold the old captain's gaze.

"You're making the right choice, Lúcio." 76 has crossed his arms and leans back on his heels as though to regard Lúcio from a new angle. Lúcio wagers he'll find the same disappointment. "I want to know what Talon are doing in Illios. And we can make good on the Intel you retrieved from your first op."

Lúcio squirms with an awkward blush, and hopes by some miracle, none of these former military personnel notice. That first op: Numbani. That was the first time he and Akande slept together: a gamble, a stupid dare of youthful defiance - nobody was going to tell him what to do, he stood at the head of a revolution yeah but he was his own person, he had his own life, and Doomfist was going to see things his way.

But then Doomfist became "Akande" in his life, and Lúcio grew very confused.

He holds his silence.

"Wheels up in one hour. Hana will escort you to get your things," Fareeha announces, arms falling to her sides. She turns on her heel and stalks from the room, heavy boots echoing on concrete in her departure. Lúcio watches her leave with a disassociative kind of wistfulness and wonders what kind of a person she is when she's not weeding out traitors in her ranks. Had McCree spoken to her about him, vouched for him and all the times they'd had each other's backs on the ground these last six months? Fareeha's attitude stings, but he can't blame her. Would he have behaved any differently if he found out one of his crew was sleeping with Vishkar before they took them down?

Lúcio is left with Ana and the Soldier, and the weight of their silence makes his throat tighten. He pulls his hands into his lap, swallowing over and over the hot stone in his throat.

He hasn't had lot of experience with the feeling of shame.

The tea is pushed towards him across the table. Lúcio blinks through the building blur of tears at the former captain.

An arresting strength resides in her gaze, holding him fast. "Be strong. Remember, you are a leader," Ana commands, quiet and stern. 

He isn't, he _isn't_ a leader, he's just a DJ who's really good at soccer and learned how to heal people. He just wanted to help. Something had to be done, so he did it.

But Ana won't stand down until he concedes, so he nods, swallowing once more, and after a long moment, pulls his shoulders back, straightening in his chair. Ana inclines her head in satisfaction, finally looking to the comrade at her shoulder.

The tea is still warm when Lúcio reaches for it, grateful when it settles the anxious roll and pitch of his stomach. Captain Amari knew her stuff.

"All right," Soldier 76 says, voice rough and weathered with such weariness that Lúcio wonders if they expect him to survive his reunion with Doomfist the Successor. Wonders if, maybe in this other life where Lúcio and Fareeha are friends, if Soldier 76 would roar at Lúcio for his poor life choices and try to steer him with a firm, but concerned hand. Instead, Soldier 76 plants his hard-knuckled gloves on the steel table and his visor glints, ruddy and dull in the low light. Lúcio can't tell if he imagines the slump of his shoulders under that thick jacket. Or maybe Soldier 76 really is as tired of fighting as the rest of them. "Let's go over the plan again."

**Author's Note:**

> [The warbling blog](https://bellsyblue.tumblr.com) / [the writing blog](https://bellsybuilds.tumblr.com).


End file.
